I have lots to report today.

First and foremost, I’m considering my try-on capris to be conquered. I can and will wear them out and about, and while the blasted slimming panel is sucking my gut in, the facts are that I was able to button and zip them immediately after taking a shower.  Now, friends, that’s a challenge for any pair of jeans.  😀  I will select my next try-on pants some time later today, once I try them on.  I’m sure you won’t be surprised when I share that they will be a pair that I have worn previously.

I had made myself the deal that I would only weigh when I reached a pants goal.  I’m considering today the day, and as you should be able to see by the ticker in the upper right hand corner of this page, I’m recording a loss of 17 pounds. I’m choosing to accept it, because that’s where I am right now.

The following is yet another reason of why using the try-on pants method and staying OFF the scale works for me.

I got on the scale at the gym, expecting a 25 pound loss.  A fair expectation for 11 weeks of work, and I’ve been a really good girl with food and exercise.  Especially exercise.  So when I saw a net 17 pound loss, instead of being happy, I was disappointed inside.  And then my brain started working.

One thing I don’t believe I shared about my initial weigh-in was that my wounded ego didn’t like the first reading I got on the scale.  It was somewhere in the neighborhood of 345-347; I don’t recall the exact number.  I weighed a second time and got 334.  In my mind, I really wanted it to be the lower number, but in retrospect, I’m not sure that lower number was correct, for a few different reasons.

First, I weighed on a standard scale, like you’d find in a doctor’s office; the kind where you have to push weights over and balance them.  This is down at the gym.  My personal scale doesn’t read above 300.  (Imagine the ego buster it is to weigh on what’s basically a public scale, where anyone passing by can see your weight, if they’re nosy. The horror!)  If you’re familiar with that kind of scale, you know that the biggest bottom weight is the 300 weight notch, which is the furthest one to the right.  It’s possible, though, to push the weight beyond that point, by a fraction of an inch.  But because it’s based on balancing those weights, pushing the weight beyond the notch results in a lower weight.  And I think that’s exactly what I might have done. 😐

I might have saved my ego a blow on that day, only to feel cheated after making a big effort to bring that number down.  Either way, it’s a mindf*ck.

Secondly, a 28-30 pound loss makes more sense, because us big ladies know it takes losing a LOT of weight to go down one size.  I was barely able to get the capris up past my hips; today, they’re buttoned and zipped.  Normally, for my body, that would require more than a 17 pound weight loss.

Now, all this really proves is how quickly I can get hung up on the numbers.  That initial number does not matter. It’s not where I am, today, and the only purpose it serves now would be to fuel my ego by reporting a higher loss.  That number doesn’t mean anything compared to the better fit of my clothing, my ability to move easier, and the number of improvements I’ve had in health and body issues during the past 12 weeks.  In fact, that number pales in comparison. It’s just one more unit of measurement.

So I’m sure you’re asking — if I knew there was the chance of a mindf*ck, why did I weigh?  Well, for one thing, I am tracking calories and exercise, and those things hinge on knowing a BMR (Basal Metabolic Rate).  I’ve been guessing for 11 weeks.  I’ve been guessing right, or I wouldn’t have lost any weight at all, but it’s still better to have some sort of number to base calculations on.  Even those calculations aren’t necessarily correct, because everything is relative to how my body actually processes energy, something I really have no way of knowing except for guesswork.  But it does at least give me some markers to use for steering myself in the weeks and months to come.

And for another, I knew eventually that I would need to deal with it so I can move on.

Regardless of any number, any size change, any other unit of measurement, this much is clear: I am smaller and healthier than I was 12 weeks ago.  That’s indisputable.  In another 12 or so weeks (or however long it takes to get to the next goal pants… and maybe shirt), I’ll be able to say the same: I’m smaller, I’m healthier.  And friends, that’s really truly what it’s all about.